Hidden
by Maven Cree
Summary: Accused of a horrid crime, Harry must go into hiding, with Snape being his only lifeline. HPSS SLASH.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't even own a car. Any characters or fictional locations previously mentioned in a Harry Potter book or accessory belong to (her majesty) J.K. Rowling. Everything else belongs to reality or myself.

Summary: HP/OC, **HP/SS**, OC/(Mystery CC). Accused of a horrid crime, Harry must go into hiding, with Snape being his only lifeline.

Warning: SLASH (i.e. Male/Male relationships - don't like, don't read)

Rated: R - Adult situations. Violence.

**Hidden**

by Maven Cree

**Part I: Odds and Things**

**Chapter One: The Death Of Harry Potter**

The courtroom was ominously silent. The boy cast his eyes up at the coliseum styled viewing gallery. Hurt, angry, hateful eyes glared back at him.

"Have you anything to say before your sentence is carried out?" The Magistrate said, drawing his attention to the man in front of him.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders; squared them as much as he was able to. Heavy magical chains attached to his wrists kept him secured to the floor he stood on. He stuck his chin out defiantly.

"Very well. Minister…" The Magistrate stood to the side and nodded to Cornelius Fudge.

"Bring in the Dementor," Fudge announced, his voice echoing in the wide court.

Two large, heavy oak doors opened and the torches on the walls flickered. A few dimmed, but most went out completely. The courtroom became unearthly cold and every witch and wizard present hugged themselves in a futile effort to keep that feeling out of their bones.

A large, dark, hooded figure corrupted the light of the doorway. It seemed to glide into the room, displaying an elegance it had no right to possess.

It approached the condemned prisoner and for the first time since his sentence had been announced, the boy began to tremble. He tried to take a step back, but the chains held him fast. The Dementor stopped less than a metre from its victim. Two vile, scaly hands descended from its dark sleeves. The hands rose and with horrid slowness, pulled back the low-slung hood. Gasps and shrieks of terror flooded the courtroom. It was the first time a Dementor had ever removed its hood in public. Those who saw it's gaping mouth usually never saw anything else again.

The prisoner began to shake his head.

"N—no…" He began weakly. "No p—please… I'm nnot--"

He dropped to his knees as the Dementor approached him. The ability to speak seemed to have left him and he mouthed silently against the nightmare the creature was creating in his mind.

The Azkaban guard reached down and pulled its victim up with one hand and positioned the boy's head with the other.

As it lowered its gaping, sucking mouth, many in the gallery turned away.

The boy was barely capable of thought as the creature's face closed over his.

His body shuddered violently as his soul was torn from him.

It only took a minute, before the Dementor dropped the empty shell back onto the stone courtroom floor.

The creature re-set its hood and left the courtroom and its gallery of observers to their stunned silence.

Harry Potter was no more.

He hurt.

Everywhere.

Every hair, every follicle, every unfortunate bit of skin.

He wanted nothing more than to sink back into the nothingness from which he had just been delivered.

"Wake up, Mr. Potter."

Huh…? He'd know that voice anywhere. But what was Snape doing in his dormitory?

"Potter."

Or maybe he was in the hospital wing because he hurt so much. He really couldn't remember what he'd done to cause himself so much discomfort.

"POTTER!!!"

"WHAT?! --ow!" The throb in his head told him that yelling was definitely not a good idea.

"We have very little time, Potter. Get. Up."

Harry opened his eyes slowly. It was dark. Very dark. Only one dim lamp in the corner lit the room and it was so low that the flame was almost completely blue. Harry drew his eyes from the lamp to the shadow looming near to him.

"Professor Snape? Where…"

"You are safe. That is all you need know of your whereabouts for the moment. Sit up and drink this."

The seventh-year Gryffindor painfully pushed himself up and looked wearily at the dull cup being handed to him.

"I would hardly go through the trouble of saving your pathetic life just to poison you at my convenience."

Save my life? Harry thought. When did he… What's going on?

The Potions master pushed the cup closer to the boy and Harry took it. After a final pre-emptive grimace he downed the potion. The grimace, as it turned out, was not really necessary. The potion had a cool, orange-like taste to it. Harry's aches immediately began to vanish.

"Thank you," he said quietly, handing the cup back to his professor. Snape nodded slightly and placed the cup on desk. He sat down in the chair at the foot of Harry's bed.

Now that his head had cleared, Harry was able to take in more of his surroundings. He was in a small room; an attic room he guessed from the slant of the ceiling. The room was fully wood and very old by the smell of it. There were two doors, a desk and a tiny cabinet. There was the low springy bed he was sitting in and Professor Snape was in the only chair… watching him intently.

"What…? Where are we, Professor? What's happened?"

"You're dead, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, but he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "I--I'm what?"

"Dead," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Tell, me. What is the last thing you remember?"

Dead? What was he on about? He wasn't dead. Not that he'd had any frame of reference, but Death didn't hurt like he'd been hurting. At least he'd assumed it didn't…

"Potter, I was in no means joking when I said that we have precious little time. Tell me what it is you remember."

Snape spoke in that soft, yet threatening voice that send horrid chills down Gryffindor necks during class time. It wasn't one to be ignored.

"I—I remember…" Harry closed his eyes. "School… No! Hogsmeade! It was the last Hogsmeade weekend. Ron, Hermione and I…oh…" Harry gripped his head.

"Go on," Snape prompted.

"We got… We got separated… I—"

Harry abruptly stopped talking. His eyes grew impossibly wide. "Voldemort…" he whispered. "I was with Voldemort! But how… I don't… Uhh!" He gripped his head with both hands. "It's all so fuzzy… I can't really remember everything…"

"A side effect of being magically kept unconscious for such a long period. Most of your memory should return to you in time."

Harry merely blinked at the teacher.

"As for what you have missed," he continued, "Professor Dumbledore was assassinated, you were tried and convicted for the crime and administered the Dementor's Kiss."

"Dumbledore is dead?!"

"According to the rest of the world, yes. But a select few know that he still lives… somewhat."

"Somewhat?"

"The Killing Curse which hit him, did not have enough power behind it. He lives, but is unconscious. And not likely ever to wake up."

"He's in a co-- _Wait_! _I_ was convicted?!"

"And given the Dementor's Kiss. I was wondering when that would hit you. You Gryffindors aren't very quick.

"_Would you just tell me what the hell is going on_!"

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Given current circumstances, I shall let your impertinence slide… _this time_." He re-settled himself. "As even you have no doubt surmised, you have not fallen victim to a Dementor."

"And _I know_ I didn't try to kill Professor Dumbledore. I couldn't have!"

"May I continue?"

Harry nodded.

"I am telling you this only because when things are kept from you, you have an annoying habit of trying to dig said information. An action, which could get us both Kissed or killed in this instance, so listen carefully.

"Three weeks ago, you were found in Professor Dumbledore's office, standing over his apparently dead body, your wand vibrating from the release of a powerful curse.

"But--"

"You then proceeded to Curse Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley _and_ Professor McGonagall with the Cruciatus, as they were the ones who happened upon you after the apparent murder."

"Are they--"

"You cursed several more students and faculty during your escape attempt, including your precious Professor Lupin."

"Wuh—"

"You were finally apprehended by two Aurors at the edge of the forbidden forest."

Harry sat in stunned silence. Snape continued.

"Before the Aurors disapparated with you, I and several others heard you shout, and I quote: "I was sick and tried of being manipulated by that old bastard. Voldemort will give me what I want." And then you were gone."

Harry thought he was going to be sick. He didn't remember doing _any_ of this.

"The trial, if you could call it that was swift. You denied nothing. You basically claimed that you had seen the so-called light, and its name was Voldemort. Of course, several charms and potions were administered to you in order to ensure that you were in fact acting of your own volition. When it was determined that you were not acting under any magic, duress or coercion, you were found guilty. This morning, your sentence was carried out in front of an overly packed courtroom. You were Kissed by the Dementor, but, as it happens sometimes, your body could not take the stress. You had a heart attack and died."

"……..I'm…..I'm going to--"

Snape calmly pointed to the door at his right. Harry stumbled from the bed, pushed his way into the washroom and emptied the contents of his stomach (which was mostly bile) into the toilet.

It was several minutes before he felt able to return to the other room. He collapsed, quite ungracefully, face first onto the bed.

"If you are done with the theatrics…"

"Aw eh o gay?"

"English would be preferable, Mr. Potter."

Harry lifted his face from the sheets.

"Are they okay?" He repeated. "Ron and Hermione, Professor Lupin and the others?"

"For the majority, their curses were ended shortly and there are not lasting physical effects. They have their minds," he said, anticipating Harry's next question. "They also have a healthy hate for you."

"They… hate me…"

"Would you expect anything less, given their experience?"

Harry let his eyes drop. He sat back up. "You said the majority."

"Lupin remains in a coma. He had the unfortunate luck to be standing at the top of the fourth floor staircase when you cursed him."

Harry swallowed and tried to keep the bile from rising up again.

"Now perhaps you would care to hear what actually happened?"

Harry nodded dumbly.

"I did not know the full truth myself until just after the verdict. I knew that you were innocent, but my… reputation has left my opinions rather suspect. And with Dumbledore… gone, my own freedom is hanging on by a thread. It is by Dumbledore's word alone that I am not currently residing in Azkaban fortress. So you can understand that I will be extremely vexed if you mess this up. Your life is not the only one at stake here."

Harry nodded again, this time his eyes showing that he understood the weight of the situation. "How-- How did you know I was innocent? I mean, you've always behaved as though you hated me."

"Behaved?"

"How did you know?" Harry asked again, ignoring the comment.

Snape looked rueful.

"You're your parent's son."

"But--"

"We have wasted enough time, Potter. Do shut up."

Harry clamped his mouth shut. That question could wait for another time.

Satisfied he would not be interrupted again, the Professor continued.

"After you were found guilty and taken to Azkaban to await sentencing, I was summoned to the Dark Lord's service."

Harry was aware for several years of the Potion Master's role as covert operative within Voldemort's ranks.

"He had an important mission for me. A delivery of sorts. Much was my surprise when he led me to a cell with _you_ in it. You were barely conscious, and incoherent. The Death Eaters had apparently been using you to brush up on _their_ Cruciatus skills. Voldemort informed me that the person awaiting sentencing in Azkaban was a Death Eater by the name of Iliad DuBell. Mr. DuBell was… new and had never been marked, nor seen by any other of us, save for the one who recruited him. Voldemort kept him in special standing because he bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain "Boy-Who-Lived", whom our dear Lord despised."

"He looked like me?"

"Of course that wasn't enough. The Dark Lord needed him to pass for you without question."

"Polyjuice."

"A temporary solution. After DuBell was taken into custody, he was waited out and carefully observed in order to rule out that very possibility. No, Voldemort needed something that time and cancelling charms could not affect. Who would ever have suspected the Dark Lord of resorting to Muggle methods to further his cause? Have you heard of something the Muggles call 'Plastic Surgery'?"

Harry's eyes widened.

"Quite impressive really. The Muggles can make themselves look like anyone else and without magic. Unfortunately, the Muggle world is now bereft of its greatest proclaimed plastic surgeon. Voldemort _persuaded_ him to work on this special project and then _compensated_ him accordingly."

Harry didn't need any further elaboration on that point. He knew that the doctor was dead.

Snape appraised the young man momentarily. He appeared to be taking everything rather well, if you excluded the initial vomiting incident. He knew that eventually, the full intensity of the situation would hit him, so Snape felt it would be best to tell him everything at once. He would have time to process it later.

"So you kidnapped me from Voldemort."

Snape snorted. "Hardly."

"Then why--"

"If you'll allow me to finish?"

Harry bit down on his lip. His forehead grew red with contained rage.

Good, Snape thought. With anger comes fortification and the boy would need that in the coming days… and months.

"It may not come as a surprise to you that Voldemort possesses a rather sadistic way of thinking. He wanted you dead, yes. But he wanted more than that. Through framing you, he brought shame to you and your family line. And even _that_ was not enough. What better vengeance than to have you destroyed by the very people you were trying to protect?"

Harry gaped at this but said nothing.

"Hence came my role in this little drama. It was arranged that I, as your teacher was to visit you in Azkaban after the verdict. I would not be alone, however. You, the _real_ you, was with me, unconscious and levitated under an indivisibility cloak. I was to make the switch, leave you to your fate at the Ministry and deliver Mr. DuBell to a noble Death Eater's Demise."

"He wanted him dead too?"

"No loose ends, Mr. Potter. I'm certain the only reason _I_ still live is that Voldemort requires a spy inside of Hogwarts. Plus, I daresay Voldemort would hardly want a visual reminder of his greatest pain in the arse working right under him."

"So what happened?"

"A change in plans that only I know about. Upon my visit, I informed DuBell that Voldemort had changed _his_ plans. That he was to continue playing the part of Harry Potter and accept the given sentence, even if it meant his death."

"And he _agreed_?!" Potter gasped incredulously.

"I told him that he could die for the _glory_ of our Lord… or that he could die at the _hand_ of our Lord. Given the option…"

"…Yeah…"

"I floated your body back out of Azkaban and disapparated, with the pretence, to any other Death Eater eyes that might be observing, of going to kill DuBell… and dispose of the body."

"But wouldn't Voldemort have wanted evidence?"

Snape smiled inwardly. Perhaps there was hope for the boy yet.

"Indeed. And I provided him with said proof. This is where the Polyjuice Potion comes in."

"But that's temporary. Even in death."

"Unless said person was disposed of using the Killing Curse."

"…You…You…"

"Very articulate Mr. Potter."

"Who did you kill?"

"A monster disguised as a Muggle disguised as you. A Muggle murderer who took delight in the sadistic torture and killing of small children. One who continually slipped through the Muggle justice system."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"And you discovered this and set it all up in the space of a day," he asked suspiciously.

"I make it a point to always be prepared… such as a small cache of Polyjuice at the ready. And I always have in mind three or four Muggles of said calibre should the need for a corps ever arise."

The suspicion in the boy's eyes lessened, but did not leave completely.

"And now that you know the full story Mr. Potter, I would ask… no, I demand your word that you will not go digging for further information. That, as I am the sole reason you still draw breath, you will obey my every word and generally not do anything that will likely get the both of us killed. Swear it on your mother's grave."

Harry looked at the wooden floor.

"Swear it!"

"I swear," Harry responded in a small voice. "On my mother's grave. I'll do as you say."

"Good," Snape said curtly. He stood. "I have stayed too long as it is," he murmured.

"So what happens now? Where am I going to?"

"You will remain here in this room. There is food in that cupboard there, enough for several days. Use the fire to warm it. You will remain as quiet as possible. No magic. You no longer have your wand, but wandless spells are just as detectable. Harry Potter is dead to the world. Think of a new name. One without connection to your former life. I will return when I can, hopefully before a week has passed."

"Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life here?"

"While the thought of keeping you prisoner here or altering your appearance so that you may work as my servant had occurred to me, the answer is no. I have arrangements to make. For now, do as I've said."

Snape moved to the other door and opened it.

"Professor?"

He stopped, his back to the room. In his peripheral, he could see that Potter's back was still to him, his head low in self-pity.

"Thank you."

"…You're not through this yet, Potter," Severus said, and then left, locking the door behind him.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter Two: Aiden Caldwell

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

**Hidden**

by Maven Cree

**Part I: Odds and Things**

Chapter Two: Aiden Caldwell 

Harry moved very little for the rest of the day. He remained in quiet contemplation of the sad state his life had become.

He was alone now.

With only _Snape_ to keep him company.

Harry Potter is dead, he thought to himself.

Harry Potter is dead.

Harry Potter is…

It became a sort of mantra in his mind. A chant repeated over and over and over again. But the more he repeated it, the more surreal it all seemed.

Harry Potter was dead…

So who was he?

Snape did not return the next day, or the day after that. The boy was glad, for that was the day he finally broke down and cried. That was all he needed: Snape to show up and bear witness to his childish sobbing. His grief was his own. He refused to share it with anybody, even if it was the man who'd apparently saved his life.

Two more days.

There were books in the cupboard as well as the food. Each day he'd tried to start reading one. He'd get several dozen pages in before he realized he hadn't the faintest idea what the book was about. It would resume its place in the shelf.

On the sixth evening, Snape returned.

The sudden sound of the lock releasing brought the boy out of his beginning slumber. He'd taken to sleeping to pass the time. He knew that wasn't healthy, but there was little else for him at the moment. When he came around fully, Snape was already seated in his previous chair.

"I am Professor Severus Snape. Who. Are. You?"

He rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Aiden Caldwell."

"Aiden. Fire. Good, you'll need that. What made you choose it?"

He shrugged. "In… Nursery School, there was a boy who was nice to me. Even my cousin's threats didn't scare him. His family moved away before the year was out. He was the last friend I'd had before… Ron…"

"And Caldwell?"

He nudged his chin towards the cupboard. "It was in one of those books over there… the author's name I think."

"Well, Aiden. It is time for you to meet your new face."

Harry's eyes widened.

"You didn't really expect to keep your same looks did you?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. No I guess not. I just never really thought about it."

Snape stood up and summoned a standing mirror out of thin air. It was placed in front of the boy on the bed.

"Nothing too drastic. Subtly is more often effective than dramatic change. Drink this first." Harry took the offered vile and downed it. It tasted like almonds. Harry felt his face go numb.

Snape observed him a moment. "Interesting," he mused to himself. He pointed his wand at Harry.

"This will not be simply an illusion charm I am placing on you. I will be transfiguring your face slightly. Only I will be able to remove the effect. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Then we shall begin."

Snape studied the boy's face. Potter-- No Caldwell had grown rather slowly over the years. He was nearly eighteen but visually could pass for three years younger than that. That was his first order of business. With a precise flick of his wand, Severus defined the boy's jaw line. He deepened his brow and straightened his nose from the childlike roundness it still possessed. The eyes became sharper in their definition.

Severus stood back and observed his work. He tried not to gape, but he had to close his eyes for a moment.

The boy looked exactly like James Potter had before he died. Potter had always strongly resembled his father, but now, if you took a picture the faces were indistinguishable, save for the scar and the eye colour. James too had never quite looked his age. He'd died at twenty-one years of age, but looked to be about eighteen… as his son now properly appeared.

The boy must have seen it too. He was staring mesmerized at the mirror in front of him.

"I look just like…"

"I'm not finished yet, Mr. Caldwell."

The young man shut his mouth.

"I have advanced the way you looked to match where your age should be now, around three years. However, this is not how your facial structure is truly advancing. This can be used to our advantage. Everyone expects that you will continue to look exactly like your father. The potion I just gave you shows that as you mature, your facial structure will soon begin to more resemble your mother's features. A more masculine version, but I dare say that in a few years, no one would have mistaken you for James Potter. So, I will use that. It is much simpler to advance your already existing gene sequence. Hold still."

Snape pointed his wand at Potter again and slowly began to advance the contours of his face with a powerful aging spell. A millimetre here and there. Slowly and precisely. The potion he had given the boy was also a type of cementing base he'd concocted himself. It would hold the advancing spell in place like a pair of invisible hands. If he were hit with an anti-glamour spell or someone tried to end the incantation, the potion would hold the image in place. If you touched his face, the image felt real. He lowered his wand. The young man who now sat in front of him was a stranger. A familiar stranger. If you saw him, you would have sworn you'd met before, but would never be able to place him. There was the strong presence of Lily Evens there. James Potter was also there if you looked for him. There were also other additives, no doubt from Harry's grand or great-grand parents. A history in one young man's face.

Snape moved to the other side of the young man. Potter was still staring wide-eyed at his new image.

Again, Snape aimed his wand. He placed glamour over the first spell. One that looked exactly like Harry's new face. It hovered centimetres from his skin. This was the most difficult part. He needed to carefully weave the second onto the first. Tiny magical tendrils, hair like in their consistency and numbers, reached out to the first image and latched on. The glamour merged onto the new face. This step was not really necessary, but Snape wanted to leave nothing to chance. Harry's face glowed golden for a moment and he closed his eyes at the brightness of it. He covered his face with his hands.

Harry didn't recognize the face beneath his hands. It was a strange sensation. He didn't normally go around feeling people's faces, but the sculpt of his own had become second nature to him. And now, there were someone else's features beneath his fingers.

He dropped his hands and looked into the mirror.

Hello Aiden, he thought. The young man looking back at him was _not_ Harry Potter. If you excluded the scar and the bright green eyes, you would never associate that face with Harry Potter's. True to his word, Snape's changes were not that drastic. His eyes seemed a little further apart, but only minutely. His mouth was a little wider, the lips slightly fuller. He had to admit he looked more his age, the older side of seventeen, the onset of manhood. His skin was still soft, but tighter around the cheekbones and chin. The baby-fat, which persisted in tormenting him was completely gone. He was… attractive.

Damn attractive if he did say so himself. In fact, if he were looking at someone else rather than himself…

Harry shook his head. This was just too weird. It would take some getting used to, and quick. He couldn't go around getting aroused at his own image. Talk about your Narcissistic nightmare.

"Satisfactory?" Snape asked sourly. Harry nodded.

"Here." Snape handed him a small container. Harry opened it. Inside were two soft light-brown coloured lenses. Contact lenses. Harry touched one gingerly.

"These don't feel like plastic."

"They are created from the lenses of eagle eyes. They do not need changing. They are not detectable and they will not dry out. Nor will they fall out. You need a special solution to remove them."

"They sound great," Harry said, slipping one in. "Why don't more wizards use them?"

"Because blinding an eagle tends to go against most wizards' morality."

Harry blinked at him with one brown eye and one green. "Blinding?"

"For the lenses to be effective, they must be taken from live eagles."

He looked down at the remaining lens in the container.

"It is too late to restore the sight of that bird Mr. P--Mr. Caldwell! It has long since been cut up for ingredients. Put the lens in."

Harry hesitated only a moment then put the second lens in. He blinked several times then looked at himself in the mirror. The image was much clearer now.

Wow, you _are_ attractive.

I _must_ stop that.

Snape handed Harry another bottle. "Go in there and wash this into your hair. It will lighten it a shade. Rub some into your eyebrows as well."

"Is it permanent?"

"It should last approximately six months. I will give you the instructions to produce more. Even _you_ could not mess up this potion."

"You're faith inspires me," Harry muttered as he stood and moved towards the washroom.

Snape reached into his robes and retrieved a small package. He placed it on the bed and resized the object.

It was a medium sized Muggle duffle bag. From it, he withdrew a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt, a thin jacket a pair of shoes and a set of under-things. He scooped up the clothes, knocked once on the washroom door and entered. Potter was already in the shower. He dropped the clothes on the sink and closed the door. He then set about disposing of the food and bed sheets. The books he placed in the bag. It surprised him that the boy had begun to read them. He might wish to continue.

Potter emerged from the washroom ten minutes later. His hair was now a dark shade of brown. He was drying it with a towel. Snape pointed his wand at him.

"Augmentos."

Potter started as his hair grew just under an inch longer than it had been. It now reached just above his lightened eyebrows.

"Siccio."

His hair dried instantly. He looked at himself in the mirror.

"Castigatos"

The horror that was Potter's coif tamed itself for the first time in his life. He ran a hand through it. It re-settled.

"Wow," he said quietly.

"Oh, yes. That reminds me…"

Snape pointed at Potter's throat.

"Speak, Mr. Caldwell."

"What do you want me--"

"Summitrere Vox."

"--to say…?"

Harry grabbed his throat. "What?" His voice was slightly lower than it had been.

"And finally…" Snape uttered another incantation, this time aimed at Harry's scar. Harry stumbled back a bit from the power of it. When he regained his balance, the Boy-Who-Lived's infamous scar was gone… or at least it appeared to be. Harry ran a hand over his forehead as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"It's still there. I can still feel it."

"Well, of course it is. There isn't a magic known that can erase that disfigurement. It can however, be hidden. Just make certain no witch or wizard runs their hand across your face."

He nodded absently still rubbing the invisible mark. Snape gave him a once over.

"I believe that is sufficient."

"What happens now?"

Harry watched as his former Professor reached into the black bag and withdrew an envelope and a piece of paper.

"You will take a Muggle taxi to this address," he told him, handing him the paper. "It is a shop called 'Odds and Things: Antiques, Books and Holistic Cures'. There you will meet a man by the name of Liam Delvin. This is where you will be staying. You will work in this shop and earn your keep. You are to do as he says and not make yourself a nuisance."

"He's expecting us?"

"No. _You_ will give him this letter."

"You--You're not coming with me?"

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"I have other responsibilities aside from you, Mr. Caldwell."

"What if he turns me away?"

"He won't. Liam is a… friend, who owes me a great debt."

"But if he's a wizard, won't he… I mean, does he… will he know who I am… Er… Who I was?"

"It's in this letter. And Liam is a Squib. He has very little to do with the active Wizarding world if he can help it. You will be safe there as long as you do no active magic and don't draw to much attention to yourself."

"It's in Oxford. Are we in Oxford?"

"About seventy kilometres outside of it."

"That's a rather expensive trip."

"There is more than enough money in this jacket's inner pocket. Spend it carefully as it is all you will receive from me."

Snape handed Harry the jacket on the bed. "When you reach the shop, knock loudly on the front door. Keep knocking until he answers. He will eventually."

He nodded. Snape handed him the bag.

"There are copies of the Daily Prophet since Harry Potter's arrest in there. I thought you might like some confirmation of the situation other than my word. When you've finished with them, burn them. Accio robes."

Harry's former robes flew out of the washroom to the Professor's hands. He tossed them into the fire.

"They should be done by my return," he muttered to himself. "Follow me," he commanded and swept out the door. Harry took one last look around, ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest and the fluttering in his stomach, and trailed after the dark man.

His knuckles were sore and he was sure, close to bleeding. He'd been knocking for fully ten minutes on the wooden frame of the glass door. 'Odds and Things: Antiques, Books and Holistic Cures' was located on a mostly quiet street amongst other small homes and quaint shops. It was a two story, square, red brick building. The large windows on either side of the door were covered with thick maroon drapes.

Harry wearily dropped his arm and raised the other. He struck the door twice and it flew open, startling him.

A man, perhaps in his late thirties (who looked very bitter) stood in the doorframe.

"You do know that it's three o'clock in the bloody morning, don't you?!"

"Yes, sir, but I…"

"Then bugger off! I open in six and a half hours!!"

He made to slam the door shut, but Harry grabbed it and held it open.

"Severus Snape sent me!"

The man stopped trying to squeeze the door closed. "Severus? He did, did he?"

Harry relaxed some. "I'm sorry to knock so late, but he told me to knock and keep knocking till you came to the door." He shrugged. "I'm not in much of a position to be ignoring him right now."

"Who ever is?" The man stepped back into the shop and waved him in. "Well, young sir, my name is Liam Delvin. How are you addressed?"

"My name is Aiden Caldwell and Professor Snape told me to give you this, before speaking further." He handed Delvin the envelope. The man shut the door before slitting paper open and removing the letter inside. He watched as Delvin read the two pages of script, his lips moving slightly with the words.

Harry took this opportunity to observe his new keeper and their surroundings. Liam was a handsome man. Sandy coloured hair with eyes to match. He was tall, not as tall as Professor Snape, but taller than Harry by a few inches. He was clean-shaven, and his hair was short and neat. He was wearing a long night robe, which had pinstriped pyjamas peeking out.

They were standing in the middle of a small, congested shop. There was a shop counter that ran almost the entire length of the store. Antique looking furniture crowded every corner and was piled in front of the wide, full windows on either side of the front door. Behind the long wooden counter were shelves built into the wall that, like everything else in the shop reached up to ceiling. They were stocked full of bottles and boxes and vials, all behind locked sliding glass doors. The two remaining walls were covered with thick books, richly bound. It was a pleasant looking shop, Harry thought. Warm and friendly. It reminded him of the apothecary shops in the Hogsmeade and Diagon Al-- Harry stopped himself. He didn't want to think about the Wizarding world just then.

Near what had to be the end of the second page, Delvin chuckled and shook his head. He looked up.

"So, Harry Potter is it?"

"Aiden Caldwell," Harry repeated.

"Liam smiled. "Well, _Aiden_ lets see about getting you settled then, shall we?"

He led Harry through the crowded shop to the open doorway behind the counter. Just through the doorway on the right was a dark winding stairwell, which they ascended. They went down a single hallway that seemed to run through the centre of the house.

"Here's the loo on your right," he said. He popped open a cupboard next to the washroom and pullout a pillow and some blankets. He kicked the door shut and continued. "That's my room," he said nodding to an open door on the left. As they passed, Harry could see the tossed about sheets and felt another pang of guilt for having drawn this man from his bed at such an hour.

"Spare room," he nodded to his right, "and yours is here on the left."

He opened the door and stood aside to let Harry enter.

It was a comfortable room. A double bed, chair and desk. A single clothes cupboard and a standing mirror. A night table and lamp. It was the largest room Harry had ever had to himself.

"Something wrong?" Liam asked. He dropped the bedding onto the thinly covered mattress, and turned on the lamp beside the bed.

"No, no. It's fine. _More_ than fine actually. Are you sure it's not an inconvenience? I don't mind the sofa…"

"Oh, Fah. Don't be ridiculous! I live here on my own and the only person who ever stays over is Severus, and he prefers the room across the hall."

"Professor Snape stays here?"

"Only on rare occasions, or when it's late and he doesn't feel like travelling and such. We can discuss this more and get better acquainted come morning. …Or, rather, later on in the morning. You get settled in and I'll see you in a few hours."

"All right," Harry said and Liam headed for the door. "Again, I'm really sorry about the late--"

Liam waved him off. "Don't say another word about it. I've got a letter to finish… and then burn, and then I'll be turning in. A few hours of sleep and this will all be a moot point."

He clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. You know where I am, Ha--Aiden."

"Thank you, Mr. Devlin."

"You're welcome, and it's Liam," the older man said, heading out into the hall.

"Liam," Harry repeated.

The man smiled and nodded.

"Goodnight then," he said and closed the door after him.

Harry turned around and looked at his new living space… and suddenly he was more tired than he had ever been in his life.

He quickly dislodged the two blankets and draped them unceremoniously over the bed. He stripped down to his underwear and climbed in, burying his face in the pillow.

Aiden Caldwell, he thought, welcome to your new life.

To be continued.


	3. Chapter Three: Odds and Things

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

**Hidden**

by Maven Cree

**Part I: Odds and Things**

Chapter Three: Odds and Things 

"Now, are you certain this will work? I'm not sure about this _iffy_ medicine…"

Harry fought desperately not to roll his eyes. He forced a smile onto his face.

"Yes, Mrs. Turnblatt. Like every other _medicine_ you've bought here, it works. If for some strange reason it doesn't, you can return it for a full refund. But it _will_ work."

Mrs. Turnblatt turned the round blue bottle around in her pudgy hand, a pensive finger tapping against her chin. "I don't know… I've tried so many other products and none of them have really worked. And _they're_ government approved…

"Mrs. Turnblatt," Harry interrupted. Do you still have bunions on your feet?"

"…Well… No…"

"Do your joints still ache?"

"No…"

"Do you still have that nasty rash?"

"…No…"

"Then believe me ma'am. Take two drops a day of this po--medicine, for the next ten days and your nose hairs will stay at a reasonable length and thickness."

The solid woman looked at the bottle again, then back at Harry.

"Two drops?"

"Two drops."

"In my afternoon tea?"

"In your afternoon tea."

She sighed. "Alright then young man. I'll try it."

She handed over several bills of Muggle money. Harry gave her back change and bag to carry her purchase.

She left the shop with a final wave."

"See you again," she said.

Harry gave a pleasant wave and continued to do so until she was no longer visible out the front window.

His hand dropped, as did his head… straight onto the counter, where he banged it over and over and over again.

Mrs. Turnblatt aside, Harry had rather been enjoying his time at 'Odds and Thing: Antiques, Books and Cures'. It had been just under three months since he'd shown up on Liam's doorstep. He was a kind man. Friendly, hearty and open, with a wild sense of humour. He was fiercely intelligent, Harry found, with vast knowledge of both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds. Aside from his slyness and intellect, he was the exact opposite of someone he would picture Severus Snape being friends with.

His first morning at the shop, after a delicious traditional English Breakfast, Liam had given Harry a tour of his… or rather _their_ living space, located both above behind the shop. Upstairs consisted of only what Harry had seen the night before: three bedrooms, the washroom and a closet. On the main floor, behind the shop, there was a parlour, warmly furnished, a comfortable living room complete with television and stereo, a full kitchen, pantry and storage room and another small toilet. There was a small stone basement which housed the more volatile potion ingredients, potions, two or three cauldrons and basic potion making equipment. All in all, the home was very pleasant in Harry's opinion.

The shop itself was the last stop on the tour.

"People can touch and fiddle with the merchandise as much as they like, but they break, they buy. And if someone would like us to hold an item for a few days, we can do that. Just place it in the storage space behind the counter or the closet behind the door. Specially ordered potions you can write on these sheets here. Give them to Perigrin; he's the tawny owl with the black specs on his claw. He'll know where to take them. Those orders can take one to two weeks, barring any problems."

"But--- Isn't that… illegal?" Harry asked. The _last_ thing he needed was a group of Ministry Officials swooping down on his hiding place.

"Isn't what illegal?"

"Selling magic to Muggles. The potions."

Liam shook his head. "Only if magical ingredients are used. These potions, herbs and such are created solely from ingredients found in the Muggle world. Now Muggles or people like me for that matter could throw the same ingredients together as much as they like. Nothing would happen. The active magic is in the brewing; the wizard's own energy ignites the process. Gives it its kick. It activates the potion, but its not active magic, so it's perfectly legal."

Liam then pulled out a large book from behind the counter.

"In here," he said, "are a list of the potions and remedies we can give them. They're listed by the ailment… cures for warts or fungus and such, or by name of the potion. It changes based on what you need. We do carry more _magical_ potions. Most of our clientele are Muggles but we do get the odd Witch or Wizard. They are looking for the hard to find potions… our _supplier_, though anonymous is known for being an advanced Potions Master. Word has gotten around. I deliver Wolfsbane to three Werewolves every month. Normally we don't deliver, but frankly I feel better doing that than them coming here. Or people are looking for a potion, which cannot be traced to them. Nothing illegal really, mostly for embarrassing illnesses or ailment. You know how the Wizarding World likes to gossip."

Harry nodded. He knew better than most.

"We don't do any of that here," Liam continued. "People's purchases are their own business. But we do pay attention to what they wish to buy. You'll need to memorize our stock and learn what combines with what. You don't want to contribute to anything malicious. If you are asked for, say… Venibe potion and Treespell Onyx…"

"Those combined would destroy someone's lungs."

"Exactly. You may sell them one potion, the more common of the two, but say that you are out of the other. I will handle it if they come back."

Harry flipped through the large tome of potions. Just when he'd thought his days of studying were over….

Liam was a good man for the most part. He had an easiness about him that Harry had not expected to find in an acquaintance of Snape's. He was friendly with both Harry and the customers. Sometimes he'd forgo payment, if he felt the situation warranted it. He also had a mysterious side. His wicked sense of humour and sharp wit lead Harry to believe the mousy-haired man would have done well in Slytherin.

When Harry had thanked him again for taking him in, Liam had told him never to do that again.

"Severus must think you're important if he's taken the trouble to send you're here. And I don't mean important, as in surviving He-Who-Must-Be-Named. Snape has his own way of thinking. And if he thinks you're worth protecting, then I'm anxious to see what he has planned."

"You and me both," Harry had muttered to which Liam had let loose a hearty laugh.

Harry soon found that curiosity of Snape's actions was not the only thing he and Liam had in common.

The customer was a Squib. A mildly intoxicated Squib, whom they'd come to know as Benjamin.

Every few days, Benjamin would saunter into the shop and inquire if they'd received any potions 'that would turn him into a full Wizard yet?' Money was apparently no object. He'd tried the 'Quickspell' route and other similar ventures, only to fail time and time again, and several lawsuits later, he was a comfortably rich man. The only Squib born to his pureblood family in two thousand years, his requests would have bordered on desperate, if he weren't so ornery.

On his third visit to the store, since Harry's arrival, the two shopkeepers, once again were forced to disappoint their disgruntled repeat customer. As he purchased a small talisman to placate himself for a while, he'd mixed no words in sharing his believe that the two of them, despite (apparently) being Squibs themselves, 'weren't even _trying_ to help him'. That they, like the rest of the Wizarding World were laughing at his misfortune at every turn.

Harry handed him the wrapped talisman with a blanket apology. "Really sorry," Liam added for good measure. Benjamin struggled to stuff the package into his robes, all the while muttering incoherently.

He turned, still struggling and headed for the exit. It was when he was only a step or so from the door, that he viciously raised his head and barked, "Great flaming poof," over his shoulder, before departing in a tinkle of door chimes.

Both Harry and Liam shared equal looks of chagrin, before speaking in unison.

"Sorry."

And then, with twin looks of surprise, "Wait, was he talking to _you_?"

And finally, "You're gay?"

Liam clapped a hand over Harry's mouth.

"Okay, just because we're both playing for the same team, doesn't mean we need to start speaking in tandem." He dropped his hand.

"I can't believe that _you_ of all Wizards are into men."

At Harry's befuddled look, Liam had explained. "I'm not being a hypocrite. It's just that one would think that The Boy Wh-- well… _you_, being gay would have been front page news."

Harry nodded. "It would have been, but only three people-- scratch that. I'm sure Dumbledore knew. He knew practically everything that happened in that castle. Only four people knew. My-- two best friends and a bloke by the name of Seamus." Harry flushed slightly.

Liam grinned. "_Friend_ of yours?"

"For a time. We… _"dated"_ a bit during our sixth year. He-- er…"

"He was your first."

Harry nodded.

"And was this Seamus among those who turned their backs on you?"

Harry gave a sad sort of grin.

"He never got the chance. He died last summer."

"You-Know-Who?"

"Surprisingly, no. For once, a death had absolutely nothing to do with me. He died in a car crash."

"A Wizard?" Liam seemed surprised. "I didn't think a simple car crash could kill a wizard."

"It can when said wizard, was pasted drunk and drove said car into a petrol truck."

"Oh dear."

"At least he didn't suffer." Harry commented. Then he chuckled. "It's kind of fitting, I suppose. Seamus was always blowing up one thing or another.

"…I did not just say that."

Liam laughed and clapped Harry on the back. "Yes, you did. But it's alright. The fact that you can laugh now means the ripples were good. Too many these days leave dark ripples when they pass."

As Liam walked to the storeroom, Harry wondered what kind of ripples his "death" had left behind.

No, it was definitely not the worst existence Harry could have been forced to cope with. Most times, when he could forget the recent past, Harry would say he was actually enjoying himself…

…Turnblatts and Benjamins aside.

Harry continued to thump his head.

"That is an interesting melody; I don't believe I've heard it before."

Harry paused, his head resting on the counter.

There was _that_ voice again.

"Please… Don't stop on my account."

Harry straightened up, the blood rushing to his feet. He swayed slightly before opening his eyes. "Professor."

Snape was standing in the centre of the shop holding a wooden crate.

"Mr. Caldwell," he nodded politely. He raised a curious eyebrow. "Is there a problem, or is this a new hobby in lieu of Quidditch?"

"Ever tried to hammer a simple concept into a hopelessly undeveloped brain?"

The lone eyebrow rose even higher.

"Never mind," Harry droned, realizing that he'd walked _right_ into that one.

"Is it not time to close?"

"Yes, Merciful Merlin it its," Harry said, coming our from behind the counter. He locked the front door, flipped the "Closed" sign and drew down the blind.

"It is a full moon tonight. Is it safe to assume that Liam is making a delivery?"

"Yes," Harry told him. "He should be back in an hour or so."

"You appear to be functioning," Snape noted, placing the crate on the counter. He began to unload bottles of varying shapes and sizes. Harry resumed his place behind the counter and pulled out the large inventory book.

"I'm doing alright. It's strange though; I haven't gone this long without using magic since before I went to Hogwarts. Muggle life is taking some adjustment -- But I haven't slipped!" he added quickly, when Snape paused and looked at him sternly.

"Have any of _our_ kind come in?" he asked, examining a squat, lime green bottle. He wrote down its identity and quantity in the ledger.

"A couple of old witches," Harry replied. "And a Warlock. They're regulars apparently. Liam knew they were coming and told me to wait in the back."

"And you did you feel when they were here?"

Harry though for a moment, taking the bottle Snape was holding out to him and setting it on the shelf.

"A little nervous I suppose… And a little angry. I didn't expect that, I mean, I didn't even know them."

"Perfectly understandable. They are part of the self same group who cast you to the wolves. In appearance, however, I recommend that you stick with the nervousness. You're supposed to be a Squib and Squibs tend to have one of two different reactions to magical folk: Fear, or resentment. I trust I don't have to tell you what adverse confrontations may lead to. Better to have them think you'll serve them for fear of what they might do to you.

"I'm there already," Harry muttered, but if Snape heard him, he gave no outward sign.

They continued with their work. The items were mostly special requests that would be picked up in the days following, but there were a few standards like headache and stomach medicine and to Harry's surprise and relief, Dreamless Sleep Potion. This, Snape gave to Harry directly, rather than registering it for the stores.

"I understand you've been having some difficulty," he said plainly. "Just don't overuse this; no more than four nights out of every seven. Dreams are an important part of the mind. To cut them off completely can have… less than desirable results."

Harry nodded. "Th-thank you, sir."

The two continued stocking the shelves in relative silence as neither seemed to have anything else particular to say. It was the first time Harry had seen his former professor since he'd come to the shop. He'd sent post to Liam, and of course, their stock of potions. But nothing for him other than the odd note reminding him to behave himself. Harry began to wonder if there was another reason for this visit. Some of the potions and ingredients he'd brought with him were a little more precious than the usual stock, but nothing that a sturdy owl couldn't handle. This thought brought to mind something else.

"Professor…" he began. "Have you… do you know… have you seen my owl? She's a white Snowy--"

"Yes, Mr. Caldwell. I have seen your owl. Lupin is using him."

"Her. Wait-- _Lupin_?!"

"Still not that quick, are we? Yes. Your beloved Professor has recovered and is greatly mourning your passing. And _no_, you _may not_ contact him under _any_ circumstance."

Harry closed his mouth for the moment. "But--"

"No."

"I don't--"

"No."

"If--"

"_Potter!_" he hissed, "Need I remind you _exactly_ what is at stake here? Do not forget your vow to me."

Harry's shoulders sank. "No, sir. I won't. Can you at least tell me… Is he… Does he hate me? Like the others do? You said he was mourning me."

"Indeed he is. No, he does not hate you. Nor does he believe that it was you who attacked Dumbledore, himself or the others. Apparently his _Lunar Addition_ leaves his 'normal' senses rather heightened. He swears that it was an impostor.

"However, given the evidence, and the fact that Werewolf's testimony is valued only slightly more than a House-Elf's, he is hard pressed to find support. Even among the others hurt by your passing."

"Others?"

"Granger, Weasley and his family. The most of the other Professors."

"But-- But I thought they hated me?

"There is a vast difference between hating someone and wishing them dead, Mr. Caldwell," Snape levelled. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess," Harry replied.

"Besides," Snape continued, going back to the log, "I do not believe they truly hated you as much as they were _severely_ pissed off at you. That aside, they still fought for lenience up until the time of your execution. Indeed Ronald, his twin brothers and Ms. Granger were banned from the proceedings all together, lest they try to interfere.

Harry closed his eyes. In his mind he could see Ron fighting with the Ministry, no regard to propriety whatsoever, when it was for something he felt passionate about. Harry was relieved. He was worried that he didn't really know the people he'd called friends if they could so easily cast him to a fate far worse than death. If he could never see them again, at least he had that.

"So they didn't want me Kissed, but they're still angry with me."

"Of course, Mr. Caldwell. You're still a traitor after all."

Potter picked up the topmost book off the pile Severus had just placed in front of him.

"_Mine's Bigger Than Yours: Staff Magic Versus The Wand_?"

"Despite the abysmal title, it is a first class piece of work. Thank you, Liam."

Severus nodded to the gentleman as he placed a cup of tea, set to Severus's taste, on the coffee table. Snape took a seat in the plush chair opposite Potter. Liam placed his own cup on the short side of the table and sat down.

"Staff magic?" Harry asked. "I've never heard of it."

"It is an extremely rare magic these days. Since staffs went 'out of fashion' as walking apparel, wizards turned more to the use of wands, which could be more easily carried and concealed. Plus, the day-to-day magics used were far too mundane for something of such power.

"There is also the fact that the number of wizards and witches powerful enough to wield a staff had begun to dwindle. Today there are only five wizards and two witches on the entire planet who possess the knowledge to create a magical staff… And it is a fair stroke of luck that one of them happens to be a friend of our dear Headmaster. Before this… unfortunate turn of events, Dumbledore commissioned his friend to create a new staff.

"Well, if anyone is… was… is… powerful enough to wield a staff, it's Dumbledore," Potter said.

"Indeed," Snape continued. "However, Dumbledore already has a staff, or at least that is what his cryptic conversations had led me to believe. I have never actually seen it. No, Mr. Caldwell, the staff he commissioned was for you."

"…For me."

"Yes."

"…And you know where this staff is?

"Yes."

Harry shook his head. "Okay, I'll put my surprise at this aside for now, but what's the point of me studying all of this. I can't to magic anymore. I'm not a part of that world anymore."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Mr. P-- Mr. Caldwell. Did you think I intended you to spend the rest of your days here, a store clerk and assistant? Do you think I would have gone through all of this trouble, just so that you could live a somewhat normal life?"

Harry sat back in chair, his jaw hung open like a codfish.

"No, Mr. Caldwell," Snape continued. "You still have a job to do.

"…And I intend to see that you complete it."

To be continued…

A/N: Thanks for all your support and extreme patience. RL is calming down to something resembling normal, so I have time and patience to write again. I have a new Live Journal which you can link to through my profile here, or my yahoo group. Hope you are enjoying this, and if you are, I'd love to hear from ya!


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